#poetry based on a picture

[autisticbritishcowboy]

Soldier of iron

Warrior of Steam and metal

Onwards through the snow

[queeringclassiclit]

William Shakespeare & The 'Fair Youth' (Mr. W.H.)

from Sonnets 1-126 by William Shakespeare (1609)

[roachbot]

"I woke up crying for the first time in years"

Poem by Helios Lark - 12/3/24

I had a dream about my childhood bedroom and the concept of dying.

The way I was sleeping was reminiscent of what it was like to wake up in my old bedroom, and I was able to picture it clearly.

Soon, however, there was talk of ascension, and I was calm. I knew they wanted me to go next, I was the oldest of the bunch after all. Still, I was calm.

The old man called to me from the pool between his office and our enclosure, he wanted to speak to me, he wanted to know if I was ready. I thought I was.

As I approached his office, I was met with memory and reflex games. As I went through these, I told him about that morning. About how if I kept my eyes closed just right, it felt like I was still in my childhood bedroom. He didn't seem to care, but I kept talking.

After making it through the onslaught of puzzles he left in my path, I exited the pool. My vision dried and I could see the old man sitting in his chair.

We kept talking. He told me about the process of ascension, he told me of the maturity he expected me to carry going through with this, and what I should expect to become of me.

I missed the low down feeling of my old mattress

It was unclear whether or not this meant I would die, but still, I was calm. I knew this was coming, so I listened to what the old man told me.

I missed the wedge behind my head that kept me comfortable

He asked me a few more questions to probe my mind, to see if I really was prepared. In turn, I asked my own.

I missed the sunlight shining through the window

We discussed the etymology of names and the purpose they held. I laughed to myself as he chose to use examples from a book series about cats, not realizing this was his way of making me comfortable with my fate.

I missed the computer desk at the foot of my bed

I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. But I was calm, I was supposed to be calm. I shouldn't be crying, this was a good thing happening, I was chosen to do this.

I missed losing things under the metal frame that held up my laptop

I leaned against the old man as I began to cry. He didn't seem surprised. I asked him again what was going to happen to me and he told me.

I missed being able to climb up to the bigger bed to sit with my mother

I kept crying, but I wasn't sure why. The old man seemed unfazed, as he did not push me away. It was like he was expecting this moment. Maybe this is how everyone else before me reacted in this moment.

I miss when I was smaller

I wondered what happened to everyone who came before me, if they thought they were as ready as I did.

I miss when I didn't know much

I wonder if this is what ready looks like.

I miss when the house was brighter

I apologized to the old man for crying, and he was silent.

And then I was awake, and my face was still wet.

I miss my childhood bedroom

[flemishangels]

Poem I wrote about divine plagues and my friend lilly who saw a dead fox

Fox pictured here:

TW: blood, roadkill, dead animal

[chaosciara]

haiku #21000

sky spills overhead

into my coffee cup it bled

much like joy, I said

[mement0--m0ri]

God fucking damn it Netflix. What the actual fuck my dude.

Guys, Netflix is going to make a modern day adaptation of Dorian Gray and they're making Basil and Dorian brothers

[makingqueerhistory]

I'm from the USA and am trying to take hope and inspiration from our queer predecessors who faced dark times in the past. How did they keep going even when it felt like the world was ending?Do you have any recommendations for queer historical essays, poems, books, anything to find comfort and hope for these dark times?

Yes, I have a couple of stories for this.

Claude Cahun

A queer surrealist photographer from 1920's paris, Claude was Jewish and recognized the rise of antisemitism in their home country and watched it become fascism. Here is a quote from their article:

"In 1937 Claude Cahun and Marcel Moore cut off many connections because of the war and ran to Jersey to avoid anti-Semitic violence. Upon arrival, they went back to using their birth names and laid low until the Germans took Jersey. Moore and Cahun set to work. They used their experience with art and disguising their genders to create works that spread misinformation, seeds of rebellion and implied that there was a large-scale resistance happening when in reality, it was just the two of them. Though some of their work was based on confusing the soldiers, they also translated and transcribed BBC transmissions into German, detailing the war crimes that were being committed. They would have these translations on pieces of paper that they would slip into soldier's pockets, matchboxes, and anywhere a soldier may stumble across it and possibly read it. An investigation was started, and Nazi authorities believed there to be a group of people doing this. When the two were discovered to be behind the actions, Claude Cahun and Marcel Moore were sentenced to death. Fortunately, the sentence was never carried out because the island of Jersey was liberated from German rule only a year later. Claude took a picture upon their release in front of the camps with a Nazi eagle pin between their teeth."

And Jarosław Iwaszkiewicz

who wrote:

"Poetry readings and concert attendance—and often a chat over vodka—were not only forms

of escapism, but also a search for better, more substantive aspects of human beings, a search

which would end, more often than not, in complete disillusionment. If it could be possible, to

discern, in these notes even if only for a moment a measure of humanity in that time of

inhumanity, the goal of this publication would be fulfilled.”

I think his whole article is worth reading.

Also here are some books to read:

Your Art Will Save Your Life

Beth Pickens

Double Cross: The True Story of the D-Day Spies

Ben MacIntyre

Nepantla: An Anthology Dedicated to Queer Poets of Color

Christopher Soto

The New Queer Conscience

Adam Eli

(Some of the links are affiliate links)

[blaqcats-fics]

unfortunately, i usually don't keep track of birthdays specifically in fandoms. so, imagine my shock when i found out that i share a birthday with bruce wayne (feb 19) — based on silverage and modern-age Batman. it is also a shock that i also just found out this man is a pisces. so in honor of both of our birthdays, here’s just a fun little skit!!

It starts with a podcast.

Tim’s the one who’s listening to it, earbuds in, looking for background noise while he codes. He barely registers the conversation until he hears the words:

“You know who gives me serious Pisces energy? Batman.”

Tim blinks. Rewinds. Listens again.

“I mean, think about it. Secretive? Brooding? Carries the weight of the world on his shoulders but refuses to talk about his feelings? Classic water sign behavior. Probably cries in the Batmobile.”

Tim immediately forwards the clip to the family group chat.

Steph is the first to react.

Steph: HOLY SHIT WAIT IS BRUCE A PISCES??

Damian: Don’t be ridiculous.

Steph: NO. THIS MAKES SENSE.

Steph: Moody. Overdramatic. Keeps adopting kids for no reason other than his feelings?? Classic Pisces.

Dick: If Bruce is a Pisces, that would explain SO MUCH.

Damian: This is stupid. He doesn’t even believe in astrology.

Steph: Because he’s a Pisces and doesn’t want to be perceived.

Dick: Wait when is his birthday again??

Tim double-checks. Then he stares at the date.

Tim: …Feburary 19th.

Silence.

Then:

Steph: OH MY GOD.

Dick: OH MY GOD.

Damian: This means nothing.

Jason: No. No. It means EVERYTHING.

—

When Jason jumps on board, things escalate.

Because Jason starts compiling evidence.

“Think about it,” he tells Dick later that night. “He’s moody as hell. He broods. He internalizes everything. He loves tragedy. I bet you anything he listens to sad music while doing patrol.”

Dick, who has personally witnessed Bruce listen to Chopin while looking out over Gotham like he’s in a Victorian novel, has no counterargument.

—

Alfred’s reaction is the worst.

“Master Bruce is, indeed, a Pisces,” he says when asked. “It explains quite a bit, I’ve always thought.”

Bruce is right there.

He looks up from his paperwork, eyes narrowed. “It doesn’t explain anything.”

“Of course, sir.” Alfred’s voice is as dry as the Batcave itself. “It is mere coincidence that you have the emotional repression of a particularly stubborn fish.”

—

Now that they know, they start noticing everything.

“He’s so sentimental,” Steph says, watching Bruce silently look at the Bat-Signal with his arms crossed. “Like. Deeply sentimental. I bet he has an old love letter tucked away somewhere that he rereads when he’s feeling tragic.”

Jason hums. “He does keep Selina’s notes.”

Tim gasps.

“Oh my god,” Dick whispers. “He’s the most Pisces to ever Pisces.”

—

The final straw is when Cass catches Bruce watching a French noir film in the dark with a glass of scotch.

She takes a picture.

It’s sent to the group chat immediately.

Cass: Look at this. Look at him.

Tim: That is the most Pisces shit I’ve ever seen.

Jason: He’s mourning a past life rn.

Steph: He’s thinking about his tragic love affairs. Probably wishing he could save them.

Dick: He’s gonna write poetry about it later.

Damian: All of you need to be stopped.

—

Eventually, Bruce notices.

Because of course he does.

“What,” he says, standing in the middle of the Batcave, staring at them like they’ve personally betrayed him, “is happening?”

Nobody speaks.

Then Damian, who has had enough, scowls and says, “They have been discussing your astrological sign.”

Bruce blinks.

“They are also keeping a list of your most Pisces-like behaviors.”

Jason immediately hurls a smoke bomb to escape.

It doesn’t end there.

—

A week later, Clark drops by.

“I heard you were a Pisces,” he says, grinning.

Bruce throws a batarang at him.

[ckret2]

A leaked list of some of the exciting upcoming content from The Book of Bill:

The pyramids of Giza ranked from most to least sexy.

Winning lottery numbers. He does not say which game they're for.

Three pages of Bill practicing blackletter calligraphy so that he can write the fancy-looking "The Book of Bill" on the cover. (Meant to tear those pages out before submitting book to publisher.)

A section where he implies that all your headcanons about him are stupid. Yes, your headcanons specifically. If you compare your copy of the book to a friend's, these sections will have different text. He insults all headcanons equally, even the ones that contradict each other.

A long, rambling story about a funny thing that he saw at a party in the Nightmare Realm, but he keeps getting distracted gossiping about the embarrassing love affairs and crimes against reality the partygoers have committed. Not a single one of these characters has ever been mentioned before or ever will be again. He gets so distracted he never finishes the original funny story. He was clearly drunk when he wrote this section.

A pet care sheet on how to keep a pet axolotl. All of the information is extremely wrong.

Some of the other dimensions he's tried and failed to conquer. He keeps insisting that all the failures were somebody else's fault. It's extremely obvious that they're his fault.

A photograph of a vivisected elephant, for some reason.

A phone number written on a cocktail napkin that Bill insists would be really funny for all the readers to prank call. It leads to the desk phone of the director of the CIA. 

Bill claims he definitely totally knew that Stan was disguised as Ford the whole time, he only played along to trick the Pines back, and then he quickly changes the topic.

A page of Bill's original poetry. It's all unintelligible symbols. It will take 27 years for somebody to crack the code. They're all gory but juvenile limericks.

A cocktail recipe. It will kill you.

Bill's original version of the portal blueprints that he copied to give Ford, with Bill's handwritten annotations. One part of the blueprints is labeled "component that will accidentally destroy the universe. REMEMBER NOT TO INCLUDE THIS COMPONENT IN SIXER'S COPY!!" He underlined this twice. If this page is compared to the portal blueprints in Journal 3, it's clear that Bill included that component in Ford's copy.

A personality quiz to help you meet your ideal sleep paralysis demon.

Bill's baby pictures. He looks exactly the same, except his bow tie and top hat are too big.

Bill reveals that he thought the llama symbol on the zodiac wheel referred to that farmer guy on the edge of town, and he was super confused to see Pacifica there.

Multiple pages scattered through the book about Bill's amazing powers, his brilliant and fun plans for our dimension, and all the cool favors he's willing and able to do for his friends and followers. All these pages end with a passive-aggressive aside about how somebody would have to be REALLY stupid to turn down an invitation to join Bill's crew, Stanford Pines—

A page labeled "My loyal servants and slaves!" filled with several hideous, oozing, nightmare-inducing Lovecraftian monsters, and one Mickey Mouse.

A self-portrait depicting Bill riding a rocket ship playing an electric guitar while rainbow lightning flashes all around him and money rains down from the sky.

A cynical, sneering tirade about how love is evolution's idiotic way of tricking primitive species into reproducing and how only simple-minded mortals who can't separate their true thoughts from their hormones fall for it. In the margins he's drawn a heart around the words "Bill Cipher +" a scribbled-out blot. The blot is completely unreadable. Despite this, the fandom will spend years debating the name underneath based on the size of the blot.

Extremely stupid "explanations" about various unsolved mysteries and crimes. In six years the world will discover one of them is accidentally correct and Alex Hirsch will get investigated by the FBI.

The book will be divided into four sections. Each section will begin with a big illuminated letter. In order, the four illuminated letters spell "F" "U" "C" "K".

[khaire-traveler]

⚔️ Subtle Ares Worship 💥

Learning about self-defense (includes carrying a self-protection weapon)

Listening to or writing slam poetry

Wearing jewelry that reminds you of him

Making a list of your personal strengths and things you're proud of

Writing letters (that you will never send) to people who've hurt you and burning them

Exercising, if possible; get some movement throughout the day

Dancing, especially to music that brings out your passion, anger, or rebellious side

Supporting local activists or online activism for causes you believe in; support human rights or humanitarian organizations

Expressing yourself the way you want to physically (this can include little things, such as wearing a certain bracelet or putting on a scent)

Allowing yourself to express your anger and upset; sit with and feel your feelings

Keeping a picture of him in your wallet

Playing combat-based video games

Watching combat-based shows

Having a candle that reminds you of him (no altar required)

Wear jewelry that reminds you of him

Having rose, horse, spear, soldier, or boar imagery around )

Have a stuffed animal horse, boar, vulture, or dog

Place motivational/affirmational notes somewhere you'll see them

Wearing bold colors, such as red or maroon (these colors are UPG; what do you associate with Ares? Wear those!)

Learning how to box or wrestle (a punching bag tends to be helpful)

Engaging with your personal passions

If you have dogs, playing with them

Volunteer at a homeless or animal shelter

Support local veterans; donate to veteran-supporting organizations

Be considerate towards veterans nearby (don't light fireworks in neighborhoods, don't fire weapons in neighborhoods, don't bring up their time fighting without them prompting it, etc.)

Stand up for yourself and others

Assert your boundaries; learn what your boundaries are

Be forgiving to an extent; do not let others continue to wrong you over and over again; learn to let them go and cut them off if possible

Learn about healthy conflict resolution skills; implement them into your life

Own a spear or a sword, and learn how to use it correctly because why the fuck not

Take a walk/hike outside, preferably during the day

Play a sport

Share your passions with others c:

Carry a protective charm with you

Prioritize your own well-being; take care of yourself first, then others when you're able

-

May add more later! This is just a basic list of some discreet ways to worship Ares. Hope y'all enjoy, and take care! ❤️

Link to Subtle Worship Master list

[autisticbritishcowboy]

The Rock The Rock

Out of place time and world

It longs to return

[broomsick]

Celebrating Imbolc as a solitary practitionner

You'll find that some of these ideas wander a little outside your typical Imbolc rituals, as I've included many of my own experiences alongside your more traditional practices!

Baking sweets or bread! Oatcakes, honey cakes, scones, herb bread (bonus points for use of rosemary), and lamb are among my favorite Imbolc dishes. Anything herb, oat, dairy, or honey is typical.

Cleaning your home, coupled with cleansing of the rooms and objects of your choice.

Make yourself a nice cup of tea! Lavender and chamomile tea are staples. Bonus: sweeten it using honey and milk, both traditional ingredients of the season.

Learn about the Goddess Brigid! I'm a heathen, but I've always found it rewarding and fulfilling to learn about other mythologies and deities of other pantheons! You'll find the myth of Brigid is tightly intertwined with the celebration of Imbolc, and understanding one leads to a better understanding of the other.

Decorating with white, blue, red and gold! Lambs, the moon, corn dolls, fire, brooms, sunwheels, eggs, candles, and snowdrops are imagery associated with this celebration.

Work with the moon, or with a moon deity that you worship.

Making or decorating candles, and crafting Brigid's crosses.

Enjoy a glass of milk! Feel free to flavor it using honey, blackberry syrup or leaves, chamomile, or elderflower! (Important note: elder flowers, not berries or other parts of the elder plant, which are poisnonous when uncooked.) Bonus points if you enjoy an apple alongside it! I've taken to making apple quarters to eat when night has fallen on February 1st.

Make a list of elements of your life that you would like to see "grow"! What are your current ambitions? What projects do you want to see bear fruit?

Start a knitting project, or learn how to knit! Making a cloak, referred to as Brigid's mantle, is a common way to honor the Goddess Brigid.

Visit a local body of water, especially springs! They are the perfect spot to notice the end of winter, when their ice begins to melt. It's common practice to make pebble offerings to bodies of water, in order to thank the earth for its gift of sweet water.

Make an offering to the faerie folk (for example, milk and biscuits), or start learning how to work with them.

Acquire a new house plant, or even better: sow a seed for a new plant to grow in your home!

Work with the element of fire, for example, by practicing fire-based magic, by lighting candles in the house, or by lighting a bonfire/hearth fire.

Play calm music, especially harp music!

Appreciate the quiet and calm of nighttime, for example, by leaving your home in the dark once the sun sets, and lighting it up with nothing but candles as a symbol of the returning sun.

Reading or reciting poetry! Especially poetry pertaining to the night, winter, spring, nature and the like. Feeling inspired? Why not try writing some poetry yourself!

First picture Second picture: Spring by Ruth Sanderson

[locusfandomtime]

fake book covers based on Cub’s museum gift shop and the signs he posted with fake book titles! This was a lot of fun haha. I know there are more fake books, and now he’s getting signed books from hermits, so I plan on making more soon! May even make a Reddit account just to post these guys on the subreddit

design notes under cut!

The Diamond Pillar Saga: Hotguy(TM) Flies Again - this title evoked such a visceral image of something you’d find in a Scholastic book fair so I went for sort of pre-teen superhero action novel, the kind with a bunch of pictures and stupid chapter titles. I imagine in-universe Scar is trying to sell as much Hotguy merch as possible so whilst he has stuff for the adults (shirtless calendars) he’d also have comic books and novels for the kids. There’s a concorp logo because I like to think the Hotguy brand is owned by concorp and it was just a cool touch

Grian’s Theory of The Mind - have you ever seen books on like psychology and breaking habits and behaviour, that kind of stuff? They always look like this. There’s a yellow background, a simple abstract design, a bunch of book awards/reviews, and a single sentence hook. This one was the easiest and most fun to design!

Joe Hills: Transformative Poems - this was based on the “Joe Hills Poetry Corner”. Transformative poems is from “transformative works” meaning… fanfiction basically. Joe has written fanfic before and I thought an Iliad/Hermit crossover would be something he’d do. Joe made the cover himself so it has a dyed leather cover and a simple design. He tried to ask Cleo for a review so he could put one on the front but she was kinda mean about it and laughed at him so he wrote a fake one instead

Ren the King: A Complicated Legacy - this one had no explicit author but I decided Cleo made the most logical sense. Historical non-fiction books often have these B+W photo backgrounds with some dramatic, fancy text overtop, so I painted the Crastle and added then messed around with text. There’s a reduced sticker over Cleo’s name because this is Cub’s gift shop and he wouldn’t want to give her credit (but still wants to stock up his shop)

[meelusinee]

NEW NUMBER | R.L X READER

word count \ 2.0k | fluffy fluff | slash / remus lupin x reader

in which you get remus' number at the bakery he works at

part one | part two

NEW NUMBER | REMUS LUPIN X READER

Remus had decided he needed a job.

His friends had money. James, Sirius, Regulus, Lily. Even Peter, who wasn’t rich but wasn’t poor. 

Not like him at least.

So he decided to get a job. He didn’t think he could have a job in a Wizarding area, as much as he wanted to. It wouldn’t be safe, to say the least. 

Which led to his journey to a Muggle town. Small, just outside of Hogsmeade, with an older style surrounding the buildings. There was a lot of greenery and other calming elements, wide sidewalks and scooters for transportation.

Plus, he found a job as a baker. 

He only needed training for more advanced things. Remus had muscles big enough to carry the pounds and pounds of flour and other ingredients. And he knew recipes, which he learned when his mother tried to distract him as a kid.

It was nice. 

He had great coworkers, and a good genre of customers. A calming environment too, which helped his pain a lot better than he thought it would. He also lucked out with his boss as well, who was also a Werewolf trying to make a living. Which meant the payment could be given to him in Galleons rather than Muggle currency.

Some days, he came to the bakery even when he wasn’t called in for work. The coffee was amazing, to say the least, and the food was even better.

His job seemed to get even better when you joined the picture.

It was a rather boring day at the bakery. Remus had been assigned the front counter, he had been a real hit with the older ladies who came in most often. He didn’t exactly like it, but they sometimes gave him extra money as a tip.

He never complained about that.

He also didn’t complain about the phone calls, something that he didn’t mind at all. He liked the comfort of the barrier between him and the phone.

“Welcome to Bettie’s Bakery, how can I help?” his voice rang through the bakery. It was mostly empty at the moment, all except for the workers and whoever was on the phone right now.

“Hi!” 

Remus felt his heart pounding at the sound of your voice, mind running wild as it flitted through different lines of romantic poetry that he had read  over the years. Who was he kidding, it was one single word that you said. Just one.

“Hi there,” he said, clearing his throat. “How are you doing today?”

He smiled softly as he heard you giggling over the business phone, leaning both of his elbows on the counter as he listened to you. “I’m good.”

“Good?” he asked. “Not great?”

“I’ll get to great if you keep talking to me.” you giggled to him.

Remus felt a wider smile breaking out on his face as he heard that, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “I’ll be able to keep talking to you if you order something from the bakery.”

“Oh, yes!” you said, giggling. It was the sweetest sound he had ever heard in his life, sweeter than the taste of thaumatin. “I wanted to wonder if you had this bread that I really like. My friend made this tomato bisque that tastes like spaghetti, I pair it with this special loaf you guys used to make. I don’t know if you still make it though.”

“What’d it taste like?” Remus asked, assuming that you didn’t know the name based on how you were describing the situation. 

“Uh,” you mumbled. “Kinda like a Cuban loaf. Very peelable, but it had a nice crust still. It had a special name you guys made though.”

“Like a baguette shape?” he asked.

“Mhm!” you smiled. “I always cut it in half.”

“Was it Sasha’s Slice?” he asked, looking at the different breads held in their display case. “It’s a baguette with a decently hard crust, kind of sweet.”

“Yes, that one!” you smiled. “You still have it?”

“Yea, we do.” he chuckled softly, his Welsh accent coming out a bit more than usual when he was talking to you. Maybe it was the natural comfort he felt around you, despite the fact he barely knew you. Or maybe it was something else. Maybe he was just tired, and it had nothing to do with you.

“Am I gonna see you in here?” he asked.

“If you’re there before closing.” you chuckled, the sound of your keys jingling in the background.

“I’ll be here after close.” he said, his voice a bit hoarser before he cleared it. He held the phone between his shoulder and cheek as he started to look around for things to distract himself with, writing random words on a piece of paper to look like he was doing something. “My night.”

“Well, I hope I see you!” you giggled. 

“Me too.” he smiled, sighing as he heard the sound of the phone hanging up in his ears.

“Hello there!” your voice chirpped through the bakery.

Remus looked up as soon as he heard it, like he was a dog and your voice was a dog whistle made just for his ears alone. Maybe your looks were too, a stunning beauty he doubted he could drag his eyes away from.

You were around his age, he could tell that much. Maybe a year younger, but he hoped that didn’t matter much to you. If something were to happen, that was.

“Hi.” he smiled as you walked to the counter. “Sarah’s Slice?”

You gasped dramatically, pointing a finger at him. “It’s you! Phone man!”

“Phone man?” he chuckled at the nickname, both of you bursting out into laughter at it. Indeed, you did meet through the phone, but it was still a rather funny nickname regardless. “I thought it’d be bread man at first.”

“Maybe ‘phone bread man’ then.” you said, watching as Remus bagged your bread.

“Phone bread man it is.” he said. “I’ll head to the bank soon, make sure they change my name. I’ll start with my nametag first though.”

You gasped before giggling, a wide smile on your face as you grabbed the bread. “Oh, why thank you! You make sure to add a ‘Mr’ in front of it.”

He chuckled, smiling at you. “Mr. Phone Bread Man. First, middle, last.”

“That’s the spirit!” you smiled bright.

Remus looked around the store to make sure nobody else was there before leaning forward a bit, his eyes now meeting yours as he spoke. “Do you come here often? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

“Not as often as I’d like.” you whispered. “I have school, but it’s working out okay. I’m moving down here soon, a small town just North.”

He smiled softly as he heard you ramble about the lovely town your mother would be taking you too, more so captured by the way your lips moved rather than the words coming out of your mouth. Though, if anyone asked, he was sure he could recite the talk in his sleep. Word for word.

“That’s really interesting.” he whispered.

You smiled, the bag holding your bread crinkling in his hands. “It’d be more interesting with a friend to spend my time with.”

Remus looked at you with a raised eyebrow before the both of you laughed, your eyes watching as he pulled out his phone and opened the app. He had gotten it so his boss could contact him for work schedules, something he charmed to still be usable in Hogwarts. He was sure it was about to pay off in more ways than just that now.

“Thank you,” you said, voice trailing off as you looked at his nametag. “Remus.”

“Remus.” he smiled, much like a lovesick puppy might look at its owner. 

“Y/N.” you smiled gently, holding your bread filled bag up. “And thank you, really Remus.”

Remus smiled, watching as you walked out of the bakery with your phone in hand. He didn’t know what way you were going, not yet, but he was planning on learning soon. At least, he hoped.

Remus was sat in class with Sirius and James to each side of him, foot bouncing up and down as he sat in Potions class. He had already done the assignment the night before, submitting it early so he would have time to relax.

Sirius demanded help with the potion they were working on, but Remus gave up after he began to wing it much like James. Despite the fact that James had been doing Potioneering since he was a kid, Sirius decided they were on the same exact level with potion making. James definitely didn’t help.

Which led to him sitting in silence, watching the fumes of different potions and ingredients finding their way into the air.

That was, at least, until you texted him.

Y/N: hi there!!! youre remus, right?

Remus looked at the message for a bit with a small blush on his face, biting his lip as he texted a quick response. 

REMUS: Yes, Remus. Y/N?

Y/N: i can’t believe you remembered! thats so sweet :c

Remus smiled softly at that, adjusting his posture in his seat to be more comfortable. He tried to minimize himself as much as possible, which wasn’t much given he was well into 6 feet territory. 

REMUS: You are rather unforgettable.

Y/N: and you are apparently a sweetheart

Y/N: btw i made the bread and soup!! It tasted really good, and i wanted to thank you

Remus felt his phone vibrating against his hand as you texted him more about the bread and the soup, eventually offering a photo without waiting for a yes or a no. It looked delicious, he had to admit, a cheesy looking tomato bisque soaking into the bread.

Y/N: i must be rambling so much though, im so sorry! how are you doing??

Remus chuckled to himself, not having minded your ramble one bit. On the contrary, he thought it was a rather endearing tidbit about you.

REMUS: Don’t feel sorry, I enjoyed it.

REMUS: I’m okay though. Having to suffer through classes.

Y/N: you have classes???

Y/N: i didn’t mean to interrupt them or anything, im so sorry!

Y/N: ill let you get right back to it right now

Remus chuckled softly, his fingers typing a quick response. He was rather glad that he was in the back of the classroom, Professor Slughorn not able to see far back enough to notice his phone. 

REMUS: Don’t be sorry, I’m not busy. I already completed the assignment so my friends could cheat off of it.

REMUS: Besides, I like talking to you. You’re a fun distraction. 

Remus felt his shoulder being nudged as soon as her saw your spamming of heart emojis and apologies, looking up to see James and Sirius staring at him with a rather teasing look.

“What?” he asked them.

Sirius waggled his eyebrows, nudging Remus again. “Who’re you texting?

“If you don’t back off, I’m taking my homework back.” Remus said threateningly, his eyes narrowing in a way that showed he meant every single word.

“Understood Sir!” James said, going back to his potion. As much as he loved potions, he hated following the rules with them. Which meant that he loved Remus’ notes and homeworks, his ability to understand the words and make them sound even better getting him higher marks.

Sirius just hated Potions regardless, mainly out of spite. It was Snape’s favorite subject, and he tried hard not to have anything in common with the greasy-haired boy.

Suffice to say, a lack of homework was a good threat.

Remus went back to texting you almost as soon as the two looked away. Maybe even before, he wasn’t quite sure. You were like a black hole that he was falling into, with rings of gravity around you sucking him through different perceptions of time and space before crushing him completely. 

You had him utterly hooked. Something that, surprisingly, he didn’t mind the idea of.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

thank you so much everyone for reading! i haven't been writing as much, but i'm hoping that, with valentine's day and the spirit of love fast approaching, i'm able to get more stuff done. i might make a small series of just text messages between some characters, though i haven't decided who yet, so feel free to comment if you want any specific character!

AS ALWAYS - please like, comment, reblog, and have a wistful day!

[modmad]

I just wanted to say that I love your book The Princess and the Jester.

I’ve always enjoyed poetry and I often learn pieces that I like for fun. The first poem I ever learnt was when I was at primary school. Each class did a performance at an end of year show and one year my class did Albert and the Lion by Marriott Edgar (we broke into smaller groups and learnt a few verses each but I learnt the whole thing by listening to everyone else).

Ever since then, if I find a poem I like, there’s a good chance I’ll learn it by heart. Over the years among other people, I’ve learnt more poems by Marriott Edgar, Roald Dahl and Mary Howitt as well as children’s stories like We're Going on a Bear Hunt and The Gruffalo. The latest poem/story that I’ve learnt and the longest so far is – as you’ve probably already guessed – The Princess and the Jester.

I work in a nursery and I have begun bringing in special books for the children to look at. A lot of children’s books these days have very basic art that leaves nothing to the imagination, like Cocomelon. I bring in books with artwork that I like for the children to look at if they want (they have to ask and then sit down with the book). Sometimes they just look at the pictures, other times they ask me to read to them or they'll tell me what they think is happening based on the pictures.

While the story itself is slightly too long for most of them to sit and listen to, they adore the pictures in The Princess and the Jester.

Thank you for your lovely story. It’s brought the children at the nursery I work at and myself a lot of pleasure.

COOL NO PROBLEM

[leviathan-supersystem]

i know this is quite an open-ended question, so apologies in advance, but as a marxist-leninist what are your main issues with post-modernism/post-structuralism as a school of thought? from libs to anarchists, lots of (so-called) progressives/leftists seem to really enjoy it, but its reception is a far less positive among communists/marxists from what i gather. what are your thoughts on it, and on the work of people like foucault, deleuze, guattari, or even more recent ones like judith butler etc? once again sorry if this is too open-ended, but i really value your insight on politics and philosophy etc etc.

well, to be clear i do think there are some good critiques which have come out of the post-modernist camps, and consequently i would consider myself more of a neo-modernist than a classical modernist, as i do think mdernism as a concept needs to be updated in response to post-modernist critiques.

at it's best, post-modernism offers genuinely useful critiques of the limits of our ability to know things, genuine good points about the inherently fuzzy and indefinable boundaries of any system of categories that human beings could ever create.

at it's worst, post-modernism rejects the very notion that there's a material world that we can understand, and rejects the very notion of categories as a whole. once it crosses the boundary into this sort of solipsism is utterly useless to me.

ultimately once post-modernism crosses the boundary into this sort of solipsism- which it often does- it becomes completely incompatible with marxism, which is fundamentally based on the notion that there is a material world and we can learn things about it. no, we can never know things with 100% certainty, but we can know with better than 0% certainty

i really love deleuze and guattari's Capitalism and Schizophrenia, but ultimately i think it's more of a piece of poetry than a piece of real scientific theory. and i do believe, fundamentally, that the approach to analyzing capitalism must be a scientific one.

i'm not very fond of foucault at all, because frankly i'm a bit of a panopticon apologist. these sorts of "panopticons" are just part of living in a group with other people, and while i certainly think there are points to be made about how these sort of systems of sousveilance need to be regulated in order for them to not be excessive and harmful, but ultimately these sorts of regulations on those systems are themselves enforced by social systems of sousveilance. so for example, the idea of taking pictures of people in public and posting them online, i agree that there should be social conventions discouraging that behavior- but inevitably these social conventions are enforced through similar "panopticon" style social systems- that when someone sees someone posting a creepshot online, the observers collectively disincentivize that behavior, tell them "dude don't take pictures of random people in public and post them online to talk shit about them you dick" etc. anyways, that's why i don't think the foucaultian persective on "panopticons" is particularly useful though i agree that obviously those social systems exist.